In The Desert
by K100
Summary: For Father's Day, here is a Giles centered story. This is set during "Intervention" and Buffy's desert quest.


**In The Desert**

 **THE DRIVE**

At ten in the morning, Buffy came down stairs and slumped on a bar stool next to Giles; she was dressed but not ready to go. He had stayed the night. It was something he'd done every night between Joyce's death and the funeral, but this was the first time he'd stayed over in a few weeks. After last night and Buffy's meltdown over not being able to love and be loved, he stayed once again.

"Here." He put a half a grapefruit in front of her. "Do you want tea? Juice?"

"Coffee?"

He nodded. "I'll make some."

He had wanted to leave for the desert at least two hours earlier, but he knew that she hadn't been sleeping well. He had seen it in her expression for weeks.

When he got up at six that morning, he peaked in Dawn's room and then Buffy's before heading to the bathroom for a shower. Dawn was asleep, all of her covers kicked to the floor, but when he looked in on Buffy she was awake in bed, staring out the window.

"What time is it?" she asked, not looking away from the window.

"Early. Try to get some more sleep. We'll leave whenever you're ready. I'll get Dawn off to school."

She didn't respond.

He showered, made Dawn a breakfast and packed her a lunch, but she was still late. When he parked in front of the school Dawn informed him that he needed to sign her in.

"Why?" He asked.

She shrugged. "I've been late everyday for a month and the principal said that the next time it happens I'll need a parent to sign me in."

He exhaled. "Does the principal know about everything?"

"He knows. I told him I didn't have a parent—"

"It's okay." Giles forced a smile. "I'll take care of it."

After stopping by the attendance office, they were told they needed to speak to the principal. They sat in a waiting room. Giles felt like he was about to be scolded. He hated the pseudo-authority of academic hierarchy—always had. It made him feel like he did when he was seventeen and contemplating dropping out of school. He questioned, briefly, why he always liked school so much.

Next to him Dawn was motionless and staring out the window. He was jolted out of his own uncomfortable state as he wondered how she kept it together. She was dealing with her grief so much differently than Buffy. She seemed to wear her emotions on her sleeve at one moment and completely hide them the next. At the moment, and all this morning, her walls were up. He didn't like it at all. He liked it much better when he knew how she was feeling—even if that meant she was sobbing in his arms—at least then he could offer some help.

Giles was in his late twenties when his mother died, and he still felt the pain. The emptiness. He couldn't imagine the pain a young girl must feel—losing her mother when she needed her most.

He patted her knee. When she turned to him, he smiled. She smiled back.

"Maybe we can just go get ice cream instead," he whispered.

"You're a little late on the great ideas, Giles. This would have been helpful and hour ago."

"I didn't know I was going to have to deal with the principal an hour ago."

Then the principal's door opened and they were escorted in by a young man. He didn't look old enough to be out of high school, let alone a principal.

Giles introduced himself as a family friend. "I apologize for her tardiness as of late," Giles said. "We will do better."

The principal crossed his arms. "I would prefer talking about this with her father or a guardian."

Giles inhaled. "Her father is in another country and I am a kind of guardian. You'll see my name and phone number are on her emergency contact form."

"I mean a legal guardian, Mr. Giles."

He glanced at Dawn who was looking out the window again. "The legalities are all in flux at the moment," Giles said through his teeth.

The principal sat in his chair. "Why has she been late…everyday?"

Giles tipped his head and glanced at Dawn. "Her mother just died."

"I know," the principal said, "and I am sorry, but I don't see how this is a cause of her lateness."

Giles removed his glasses. "And as we talk about this she is missing more class. We will work harder to make sure she is on time. That is the best we can do."

"Dawn," the principal said, "he's right. Please go to class. Mr. Giles, please stay for a minute."

She grabbed her backpack and smiled apologetically. "Bye, Giles."

She left and Giles started before the principal had a chance to say anything. "I don't know who you think you are treating a child who has just lost her mother like a criminal. She has been in hell. You're lucky she shows up at all."

"If she is late again we will call the truancy office, and she could be suspended or even expelled."

"That's fine," Giles said, "I'll home school her. I am not impressed by the instruction here anyway." Giles stepped forward and said coolly: "Leave her alone."

He turned and left before anything more could be said. As he walked down the main hall he saw Dawn leaning against a wall.

"Did you yell at him?" She asked when he approached.

"No."

"Yes you did."

"Maybe a little bit," he said, and then smiled. "You do need to get to class, Dawn."

"It's just PE."

"PE?" Giles gasped. "He's angry because you're a little late for PE?"

Dawn shrugged. "I think he's evil."

"Probably."

He had thought about bringing her along on the trip—he would have like it, if fact—but he knew it was best for both Buffy and Dawn if he didn't. Giles made a mental note to try to give her some extra attention, away from Buffy, when he got back. Horse-back ridding was the first thing that came to mind. He loved ridding. When he was young, about her age, he'd ride to a lake at the edge of town to clear his head; maybe it was just what Dawn need. He didn't know if it was something she had ever wanted to do, but he figured every young girl wanted a horse.

"We'll be gone for a day, probably two," Giles said. "If you need anything—"

"Yeah, I know. Call Willow and Tara, go to the Magic Box after school, do my homework, stay safe, eat my vegetables, and don't bother anyone."

"Don't bother anyone?"

"That's a Buffy rule."

"You don't bother anyone. We all love you."

She nodded. "Have fun in the desert. Bring me back a rock."

She started to walk away. With her long and slow strides Dawn looked so lonely and lost in the big empty hall. It was like every move was forced but soft.

He called after her. "Do I get a hug goodbye?"

She turned and mocked with a smile. "God, you're so embarrassing." But she went back and hugged him anyway.

After the coffee was made, Giles poured Buffy a cup. "There you are."

"Thanks."

Buffy was vacant. He couldn't tell if it was because she hadn't slept or if it was just the weight of the world. Buffy ate slowly and Giles waited, reading the newspaper in the living room, running the vacuum, and generally straightening up.

"Are you ready?" He asked when she appeared.

She nodded. "I have lemonade," she said and held up a thermos.

"Good." He got his jacket. "Dawn was late for school, just so you know. I tried to get her out of the house sooner but it didn't work."

"I think she's happy to be away from me for awhile."

"Maybe space will do you both good."

She turned to him and shrugged. "Let's get with the finding of myself."

He had warned her that it would be at least a two hour drive, but she didn't mind. When she was a kid, she liked going for long drives with her family—it usually lulled her into a quiet trance where she could just think. For the first half hour, as they drove inland, that was exactly what happened. Neither said much and the radio was barely audible.

All she could think about was her mother. It bombarded her every waking thought. Everything was incomplete without her. It was like life could never really move forward—always stuck wishing she could run home and tell her mom about her day.

Would the good things in life mean anything without her mom around to share in the joy? Would the bad things ever fade without her mother to sort them out? She leaned her head against the window as the Los Angles skyline faded behind them into the smog.

She didn't realize the tears had been slowly trailing down her cheeks until Giles leaned over and opened the glove box. He pulled out a box of tissue and handed it to her.

She dried her eyes. "My dad finally called last night," she said. "After we went to bed."

"I heard the phone ring. I thought it was Willow." He waited a moment, and then asked, "How'd that go?"

Giles' voice was warm, it always was. She wondered if it was the accent.

"I don't know. He just kept saying things like 'I can't believe it' and 'She was a good woman.' He didn't offer to come back."

"Buffy, I'm sorry."

No, she figured it was just his voice and not the accent that made him sound comforting. She didn't even notice his accent anymore.

"I really thought he'd say he'd come back for awhile and help us get through this. He didn't even ask to talk to Dawn, so I didn't tell her he called."

"At least now you know where to reach him."

"No, I don't. He hung up without giving me a number."

"Oh. He probably just forgot. I'm sure he'll call back."

"I don't understand him, Giles. When I was young, and even after the divorce, I thought he was the greatest, but it's only in the last few years—looking back—that I realized that my dad and I never really had a great relationship. We never talked, and I don't think we ever will."

Giles nodded.

"He used to buy me things. That's it. That and taking me to Disneyland was the extent of our relationship. If I got good grades, which was rare, he would take me shopping. We never had heart to heart conversations; he'd never help with my homework. I'd just lead him around the mall and he'd happily pay."

"Some men find it hard to express—"

Buffy said unemotionally, "Don't defend him—I'm ranting here."

"I'm sorry, continue."

"I know he loves us, and I miss him, but he's a letdown. And when I think about it, he was never there, not even when he was around."

They were both quiet for a moment.

"Okay," she said. "Rant over. Your turn."

"Honestly, Buffy, I don't know what to say."

"You could rant about your father—make me feel better." She paused. "Unless he was a great father, then don't. I don't want to hear about other people's great dads right now."

Giles smiled. The San Bernardino Mountains were coming nearer.

He said, "I do know that you and Dawn deserve better. Your mother deserved better from him as well."

"She deserved the best of everything."

"Yes," he whispered. There was a brief moment where he wanted to tell her how he had wanted to be Joyce's everything, but he didn't. Perhaps when she was older.

Buffy fiddled with the radio. When they got closer to the mountain, the station went from pop music to fuzzy mariachi.

"Giles, did you and my mom _not_ get together because of me?"

"What?" He wondered if he had been thinking out loud.

"I gave the two of you such a hard about it—and it majorly grossed me out—but," tears formed in her eyes again, "but if you could've made her happy, I would've been okay with it—grossed out, but okay. All I wanted was for her to be happy."

"Buffy—"

"And tell me the truth." She was calm, and her voice was even. "Because I know that that candy spell was just meant to make you all teenagerie, not make you attracted to her."

Traffic slowed in that typical California way. Six lanes of traffic and everyone was suddenly going no faster than school zone speed limits.

"Under that spell I was free of insecurities and doubt—which, if you think about it, is not much like a teenage at all. When I was young, I did those kinds of things because I was _full_ of insecurities and doubt about my life and my future."

She looked at him.

"It's complicated, Buffy."

"That was a fine explanation years ago, when I was young and she was alive."

They connected to the 15 freeway, picked up speed, and soon began moving through the Pass.

It seemed now would be the time to tell her about some of his feelings for Joyce. "After you went to University, right before Christmas, I stopped by your mother's gallery. I had never been in there. It was nearly empty that day and she gave a tour. She was passionate about that place. She knew everything about every piece. Our tour took hours and it was wonderful."

"She never told me about that."

"I remember her being so vivacious and beautiful that day. She asked me to dinner that night, with all of you, at the house. But you didn't show up—you were at a dorm Christmas party, and Dawn was staying late at school working on a float for the parade."

Buffy's eyebrows were lifting slowly.

"Nothing happened, Buffy."

"I'm not judging."

"We ate and talked. And you know what? We had more to talk about than just you."

Buffy shrugged. "A conversation without the topic of Buffy is just a boring conversation."

He smiled. "I thought very highly of your mother. That candy didn't make us attracted to each other—it was already there. I miss her very much."

This caught Buffy in the throat. All the things that could have been seemed endless. She looked at Giles. He seemed to have aged so much since she first met him. The lines around his eyes were deep, he had gained a little weight, and his glasses were always getting thicker.

"I would have been okay with it—with you and my mom."

"I know. She knew. It just wasn't meant to be."

So much was unfinished.

They hit the top of the Cajon Pass at the top of the mountain and suddenly the desert was endless as they descended. But what Buffy didn't expect was a city.

"People actually live in the desert?"

"You think these people are strange for living in a desert? I'm sure they would think the same thing about people living in a city with unexplained deaths nightly."

"True. But it's like a metropolis. Are we in Vegas?"

"No. We'd have to drive another five hours before we would cross into Nevada."

"Las Vegas is in Nevada?"

He shook his head.

"Joking." She stared out the window. "I thought you said this sacred place was out in the middle of nowhere. I think someone built a house over the sacred place."

"I'm starting to think the same thing."

It was clear they were in the desert because everything was brown, but the freeway was lined with restaurants and gas stations and shopping centers.

"Oh." Buffy pointed. "In-N-Out."

He got off the freeway. Of all the things Giles had come to like about American culture, the In-N-Out burger topped the list. It was just so much better than other burgers. As they ate, he looked over his map. Buffy was quiet and Giles didn't try to force conversation.

"I see dirt roads in our future," Buffy said as she finished her shake.

"Yes. I don't think they've paved a road to the sacred place. At least I hope not."

They walked slowly back to the car. The wind was beginning to pick up. It was much colder here than it was in Sunnydale. The air was crisp and clear.

"Can we put the top down?" She asked.

They connected to Highway 138.

"Let's just go to Vegas," she said. "That's where miserable people go, right?"

He sighed and handed her a map. "This is where we need to turn off. Keep a look out."

They had awhile to go yet. The urban sprawl began to thin until finally there was nothing but desert and Joshua Trees all around them. It was oddly beautiful.

Buffy folded the map. "Giles, I want to drop out of college."

"Good for you." He sounded quite proud.

She smiled. "I thought you were going to lecture me and tell me to stay in school and don't do drugs."

"Well, for now it's good. You're young. You can go back. You have a lot of responsibility right now, and if I know you at all, I know school has never been your favorite."

"No, not my favorite, but I liked college better than high school." She paused. "Part of me really doesn't know why I should go to college anyway. There's no point."

"Buffy, you've proven time and time again that you're not the average slayer."

"I don't know. I don't think about my future anymore. I don't make plans. I don't dream."

"Things have been more than difficult lately."

"I just don't feel like I have a future."

Giles took a deep breath. "I will stop at nothing to make sure you do have a future."

"I know, Giles. It just doesn't change the way I feel. I don't feel longevity anymore."

He pointed to the endless desert around them. "That's why we're here."


End file.
